Comedy news shows used to make shit up to be funny, now they just tell the truth.
You know you’re getting older when every new person you meet looks like a permutation of people you already know.
Dogs can be our best friends, but the cat will never tell the police where the marijuana is.
3 AM is “a late night”. 5 AM is an “early morning”. 4 AM is where you just stare at the clock and try to categorize it but you can’t.
creepy-creepy-pasta
I think this might be the end. For us anyway. Man and all that we’ve accomplished. I’ve had plenty time to think about it since the last time I saw the sun. The last time I’d ever see it. It’s not the end of the world but it is for us.
I guess it started almost a month ago, although it could be longer, there’s only the clocks scattered around the house to tell me how long and half of those are dead now. Anyway I’m straying from the point. It was on the news, a cruise ship sank for no reason. It wasn’t damaged, just pulled straight down. Then the rest of the stories flooded in. Everything in the water was sinking. Oil Rigs disappeared. People on the beach pulled down into the abyss. Nobody seemed able to explain why this was happening. Nothing floated anymore. It was bizarre. This filled the news for a couple days until it just got frightening.
It was during one broadcast that it changed for the worse. It was a report from some beach, an on-location report about this strange phenomenon. They were just recycling the same questions we had all been asking for days. Suddenly panic seemed to grip the face of the reporter, she screamed as the camera quickly tilted down. Her feet were sunk into the sand down to her shin. I remember smirking thinking it was just some overly-sensitive reporter messing up, but then the camera dropped. The remaining 10 or so seconds that followed showed not just the reporter sinking into the sand but all of them. The whole media circus that had descended on the beach to cover the same story. The reporter who was down to her shin a minute ago was now down to her chest. The shot of writhing, screaming, sinking people ended shortly as the camera was engulfed by the sand.
The news stayed on a few more days but there was nothing to say. Some blamed sink-holes for what happened on the beach, while others argued against them from the safety of their downtown studio. The news was a waste of time now. It was much easier to look out the window. It was more or less a ghost town outside. Everyone was inside, afraid to leave their homes. It didn’t seem to make sense. The roads and pavements were being absorbed by grass and dirt. Street signs and traffic lights were being consumed by the plants. Houses too.
Some people tried to run, jumping from roof-top to roof-top, looking for higher ground. Occasionally while flicking through what was left of the TV broadcasts, skyscrapers had become refugee camps. I had made one trip out of the house since this started, across the roof-tops. An attempt to get supplies from a nearby supermarket but that planned seemed to be a waste of time. It was a husk by the time I got there. Looted and pillaged. There was all the evidence I needed to see how bad this whole thing was. It’s easy to be in denial about something like, whatever this was, until it really seems to effect you. When I got back to my house. I noticed something. My car was gone. Well almost, you could still see the top poking out from the overgrowth and loose soil. And not just my car, all of them. Bigger vehicles were still in sight, only partially obscured but they were going down too.
A few days later, my whole bottom floor was subterranean. I had managed to block the windows and door from bursting in from all the dirt and soil, but it was just a cell now. A mausoleum. Not somewhere I wanted to be. I spent most of my time by an upstairs window, staring at the hostile world outside.
My neighbor died yesterday. He fell off his roof and was swallowed by the earth. He’s not the first person to do that either. What made it notable was why he fell. He was trying to stop his dog from getting out. The dog’s fine. Well I assume so. It ran off. They’re not effected. The animals. This is our fate. That nihilistic little discovery was too much for me to bare. This whole thing. A living fuckin’ nightmare. I hit the bottle hard and passed out for the night.
When I woke up my head pounded in the darkness. I flicked the light switches and the fuses but the power was out. I took the flashlight by the fuse box and looked around the house for any supplies. While checking the upstairs I saw it. The last glimpse of natural light I’ll ever see. I had been thinking it was just night, that I had slept all day in an alcohol coma. By the time I could cross the room to the window it was gone. I was underground. I tried to get out. Smashing through plaster and tiles to be greeted with a stream of soil pouring out from where the sky should be.
I don’t know how much longer I’ve got in here. In my house-sized coffin. There’s only so much food and so much air. I’ve got a little bit of light, a couple candles and a book of matches. The flashlight died sometime ago. But this is our fate. Man’s fate. Our return to the earth
